A Little About Remus
by RavenclawLupin11
Summary: "He wants everyone to see that he's more than his disease, especially since he didn't ask for it. He loves music, animals, books and his friends so fiercely I'm afraid one day his heart will burst from all the love he has in it. So is it any wonder that I'm in love with him?" Sirius about Remus / ONESHOT / WolfStar


**RavenclawLupin11 presents:**

**A Little About Remus**

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I made these for Lily and James, so I thought I'd make a small drabble about what Sirius thinks about his werewolf friend Remus

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He absolutely possessed a beautiful soul. He was a light to my rather bleak existence. Everything he did; every word that came out of his mouth made me smile, every smile he pulled, made my heart flutter; every gesture, every laugh, every casual wink, they all caused me to feel happier. His aversion to pranking made him even more endearing to me, for some odd reason. I think it made me want to be a better person for just a little while. He was often in pain, the kind of pain no one should have to endure, and he carried it with as much grace as one can in his condition. He was so pure. No one else in the school seemed to look upon him with the same love and affection as I did. Perhaps I was more intelligent, more esteemed; able to look into his soul better than others could. Maybe it was because I was more sensitive than others. Maybe it was because I had the same canine intuition has he did. Perhaps it was because I was so obnoxious, I needed his quiet, introverted self to keep me grounded to reality.

What really got me, was that he wasn't overtly good looking. His hair was normal brown, his eyes were deep set in his face, his limbs were long and lanky. But if I looked closer, I could see what made him so special. His hair, normal brown. But it was the way the sunlight hit it, that the brown turned to amber. When the moonlight hit it, it was a soft silver. His bangs would fall forward when he was writing anything and that would cause him to run his hands back through it, making the strands more tousled. His eyes, deep set in his face. But it wasn't just that they were deep set, they were also very expressive. When he was angry, his brow would drop down and his eyes would glare at whomever was upsetting him until they stopped. When he was happy, the topaz orbs would light up and nearly shine with delight. When he was concentrating, his brow would furrow, and his eyes would show an air of 'don't bother me' and people stayed away. His limbs, long and lanky. But what no one else seemed to notice was that his fingers were long too. Long and thin, used for delicate flicks of a wand, or carefully caressing a dark creature that was misunderstood by the world; like he was. Long fingers with a wide span dexterously playing the keys of a piano to relax. Hands that would rest behind his head while he was laying in the sun, or to conduct a pretend band in his head while listening to his old jazz records on a lazy Saturday morning. Sometimes he'd put on the records in the evenings and dance around barefoot in the dormitory. I never told him that I stood and watched for awhile. I believed it was endearing and gave my stomach butterflies.

How he could possibly put up with James, Peter and I for all these years is purely lost on all of us. We were born to be troublemakers and he was born to be a golden boy. We are very loud and obnoxious and he's quiet and reserved. We love alcohol and he loves chocolate. We haven't a care in the world for the rules and he abides by them always. Even after he was made prefect, he didn't try to stop our antics. Maybe he talked us down from a few of the more severe pranks, but he was always under James' cloak with us when the plan was executed. He usually would give us hints as to the magic we should use towards the pranks. James and I were usually the ones caught, but he was the mastermind behind most of the pranks. Why he hasn't tried to change us, I'll never know.

Now, let us return our attention solely back to _him_. Never in my whole life have I ever come across someone so impeccably neat. His robes, are always neatly laid out the night before. I know it embarrasses him that he has to magically lengthen the ends every year because he can't afford new ones, and the fabric is worn in some places, requiring a patch over them, but he never complains or asks for someone to help him; he doesn't accept charity either, James and I have tried. He rolls his socks. His shoes are always in the straight line. Nothing in his space is out of order. He dusts his area on the daily. I'm honestly surprised he never put down Spellotape so that James or I couldn't cross it with our stuff. He always complains there isn't enough books for him to read; his thirst for knowledge is unquenchable. His voice is soft and a little gravelly, but he hates his Welsh accent. He says it makes him sound unintelligent. I think it makes him sound sexy. His biggest wish in his life is to be a teacher. To be able to teach children the truth about werewolves, he says, would be the height of his life. He doesn't want anyone to feel left out if they're different. He doesn't want anyone to feel as if there particular peculiarly makes them a monster or makes them stupid, or unable to learn. He wants everyone to see that he's more than his disease, especially since he didn't ask for it. He loves music, animals, books and his friends so fiercely I'm afraid one day his heart will burst from all the love he has in it.

So is it any wonder that I'm in love with him?


End file.
